


look away (the point of no return lies in his eyes)

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Universe, Extreme BDSM, Multi, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-16
Updated: 2005-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: You wish you could look away, but it’s too late. Torn between pride for your name and anticipation of your wildest dreams coming true, you hold your gaze and wait for instructions.





	look away (the point of no return lies in his eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

It’s a force stronger than God, Merlin, or whomever you believe in that draws you to him, to _them_. The voice of reason inside your head, which strangely enough sounds like your father, tells you to look away, avert your gaze, turn your head. Look anywhere but in his eyes, because therein lies the point of no return. The point at which you will fall, give in, lose yourself to him, to _them_.

You watch from a distance, for it is impossible to look him in the eye if he doesn’t know you’re there. You watch his face at the different levels of ecstasy, memorizing every muscle contraction as he nears his release. You admire the way his hair clings to his sweaty forehead, hanging in his eyes, but he does not push it out of the way because his Master hasn’t asked him to. In fact, his Master will usually push it out of the way for him, because this isn’t just about playing a game or getting off, this is about love.

They are in love; they have been for years. It takes a special kind of trust to allow someone to do to him what his Master does, a trust that can only develop over time. He knows his Master will not hurt him; his Master may be in charge, but he’s the one with the control. Bound, branded, and bruised, he will still call the shots.

Every session begins the same. Saturday nights at eleven o’clock in the forest behind the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, they walk hand-in-hand to the tree with their initials carved into the trunk, and his Master turns to face him.

“What would you like me to do to you tonight, my pet?” his Master asks, cupping his face lovingly.

Each week is a different answer, as though he spends the other six days and twenty-two hours researching every possible way his Master can give him pleasure by domination. His answers are very detailed and descriptive, sometimes lasting up to five full minutes. Upon completion and understanding, his Master begins the session with a chaste kiss and an ‘I love you’.

You know all of this because you’re here, every week, watching. You don’t even remember what brought you here in the first place, only that you kept coming back at the same time every night in hopes that they would return. You caught onto their pattern quickly and even scoped out different vantage points throughout the forest, recently deciding on the large rock that you could lean against and keep your balance whilst touching yourself.

Tonight is an anniversary of some sort which calls for a special performance, and you settle in for the show. You haven’t wanked all week in anticipation of tonight, and your goal is to prolong your orgasm until his Master gives him his.

You hear your father’s voice again: Look away, look a _way_! The power of tainted love compels you! Your bittersweet obsession has taken you over, ensnared your senses, eroded your brain! Look away, while you still can!

_Fuck you, Father_.

“What would you like me to do to you tonight, my pet?”

He smiles warmly and gazes deep into his Master’s eyes, as he always does.

“Tonight I would like you to allow me a slave, one whom I can dominate the way you dominate me while still being yours. One on whom you can teach me the role and let me indulge in my dominant fantasies while still being yours.”

His Master grins as though he already knows the answer to his question before it is asked.

“Who did you have in mind for this slave, my pet?”

“None other than our loathed enemy for so many years; a wizard who we would believe rather die than serve us, yet there he sits crouched behind that rock, cock in hand, watching us as he’s done every week for the past six months.”

Slowly, two pairs of eyes turn towards you. You freeze, meeting his stare, your cock fully erect in your hand, twitching at the sound of his voice.

Look away! The point of no return lies in his eyes!

You wish you could look away, but it’s too late. Torn between pride for your name and anticipation of your wildest dreams coming true, you hold your gaze and wait for instructions.

“Come here, Malfoy.”

His master stands behind him, looping his arms around his waist and nibbling affectionately on his neck. “Call him ‘slave’,” he whispers, loud enough for you to hear.

“Come here, _slave_.”

You are lost in his eyes, the green iris radiating with intensity as though casting the _Avada Kedavra_ curse. Your feet move without command; the figures of childhood rivalry formerly known as Weasel and Potter appear larger as you step closer, your cock visibly erect under your robes.

His face is set, but you can see the excitement in his eyes; the anticipation, the longing, the undying love for his Master for granting him this fantasy. You are compelled to assist him in fulfillment, even if that means sacrificing yourself. It’s more than sacrifice, really, for you are also shunning your pride and defying your name; however, in your eyes, in _his_ eyes, it is worth it.

Stopping within an arm’s reach of him, you stand straight. The voice inside your head has faded to nothing, although the echo of _look away_ remains. You see not only his eyes but his Master’s, both staring at you in a way that makes you feel like you’ve just been set on fire.

“Tell him what you want him to do to you, pet.” His Master’s voice croons into his ear, the tone soothing, the way silk feels against bare skin. “He will do anything you want.”

His face lights up, a devious smirk playing at his lips, and you silently agree. Right now you would do anything just to touch him, feel him, make him moan, make him _come_ ; feel his breath and heartbeat quicken, his hands on you, his cock pulsating as he peaks. Right now your every happiness depends on his, and you will do anything in your power to see to it.

“On your knees.” His voice is strong and confident, as though he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. “I want you to take my cock out and suck it. Suck it _good_.”

Your knees hit the earth and you fumble with his trousers, anxiously awaiting the feel of his skin against your fingers, your lips. The taste of his sex on your tongue, his cock throbbing in your mouth; it’s too much, and you fumble. Slowly lowering the zipper, teasing yourself as well as him, you lick your lips and focus on the prominent bulge as you free it from its constraints.

The flesh springs free, hard and thick, and you immediately flick your tongue out to lick the head. He groans; you _feel_ him groan through a hand tentatively placed on his hip, and you feel his desire as his hands thrust into your hair, wanting more.

You lick again and press your tongue into the slit, eagerly lapping up the precome that has formed. It tastes musky, bitter, tangy, but good. You feel his knees about to give out from under him, but his Master firmly grasps his hips to hold him upright. Discovering the placement of your hand, his Master smacks it away and you jerk it back into your lap, folded over the other as though you were about to be served tea.

There is to be no touching, that much is clear. However, you are most certainly allowed usage of your mouth, and you take advantage of that. You slide the head of his cock into your mouth and push it in and out with your tongue, creating suction with your lips. He pushes your head down and you comply, taking him into your mouth until you can feel him at the back of your throat.

He pulls your head up and down once more, and you are slightly ashamed that he is doing all the work. Matching his rhythm, you imitate his motions and he loosens his grip on your head, instead grabbing fistfuls of hair in fervor. Proud, you tighten your lips around his cock and try to take him in deeper, pushing the instinct of your gag reflex to the vortex at the back of your mind where the voice was banished.

You raise your eyes in time to see his Master turning his head towards him for an open-mouthed kiss, one where their tongues meet before their lips do. His Master lifts a hand underneath his shirt, where he runs his fingers along the smooth plane of chest from his neck down to your mouth. His fingertips brushing against your upper lip send sparks throughout your body that end up at your cock, and you wonder if you’re allowed to touch yourself.

His Master grinds against your Master’s backside, softly groaning into his mouth and whispering something that sounds like ‘too many clothes’. Your Master reaches for his wand and waves it without saying a word; you’ve always been secretly impressed by his knowledge of non-verbal magic. You find yourself completely starkers and for a moment wonder where your clothes went, until you notice the striking contrast of clear skin intertwined with freckled in front of you.

Their kiss is broken abruptly as his Master drops to your level behind him and thus out of your sight. You feel the change of pace from him, however, and you can tell that his Master is probing his entrance with his tongue. You figure his Master’s cock is within reach and consider touching it, but you don’t. You’re here to serve _your_ master, not anybody else.

He is groaning, one hand thrust in your hair and the other on the head behind him. He halts your ministrations and looks down at you through hooded lids, panting for air. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you lean back on your heels and meet his gaze.

_Look away_!

“I want to fuck you, slave.”

You nod and begin to turn around to bend over for him, but he stops you.

“No,” he says firmly. “Like this. I want to see your face as I fill you again and again.”

He lays you down, your back against the earth, and covers your body from head to toe. A bead of sweat falls from his forehead onto yours as your faces are now inches away from each other, and he leans down for a kiss. It’s a fairly chaste kiss considering the compromising position, but it’s still welcome nonetheless. His lips touch yours briefly before he pulls away and leans back on his knees, into the warm embrace of his Master.

His Master whispers instructions into his ear, and he complies. You feel a cold substance being applied to your entrance, followed by probing fingers. It’s not your first time, yet it feels like it, and when his fingertips graze your prostate your body jerks and you let out a high-pitched moan.

“Relax,” he says, and you attempt to do so by keeping your eyes locked on his as he replaces his fingers with his cock.

He slowly pushes in and your body opens up for him, as though your every being depended on him being inside you _now_. You lift up with your arms to urge him on, but he grabs both of your hands and places them behind your head. You don’t struggle.

He squeezes his eyes closed and gasps as his Master enters him from behind, wrapping those strong, freckled arms around his body once more and burying his face into the back of his neck.

His Master establishes the rhythm, which leaves your Master free to bind your hands and fuck your mind with his eyes whilst fucking your body with his cock. You don’t dare look away, for you have long since passed the point of no return.

You feel a hand on your cock; it must be his Master’s. It is a pleasant surprise that you are allowed release, one which you are most certainly not about to protest. Especially when your Master leans closer and whispers, “I want to feel you come.”

You come immediately, fighting against the urge to tear your eyes away from his and give in to the bright flash that overcomes your vision upon orgasm. His Master continues stroking you until your cock falls limp against your chest before quickening his pace. Your Master’s cock is forced deeper into your arse as his Master does the same to him, and the beautiful harmony of rapturous moans escaping from their mouths makes you want to come again.

You watch his face as he goes over the edge; he does not close his eyes. Panting, breathless, his expression distorts in ecstasy as his Master sinks his teeth into his shoulder and thrusts one final time. Your Master falls back against his, his spent cock slipping out of you. You feel the emptiness, in your body, in your mind.

“I love you,” he says, and you know it’s not directed to you.

“I love you, too,” his Master replies.

They share a loving kiss, and that is when you finally look away.


End file.
